


No You Never Were, And You Never Will Be, Mine

by Team Free Will (bloodofpyke)



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:12:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodofpyke/pseuds/Team%20Free%20Will
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right as Sam's leaving for college</p>
            </blockquote>





	No You Never Were, And You Never Will Be, Mine

“Dean, will you-will you just _calm down?”_ Sam was storming around the motel room, tossing belongings into a tattered duffle bag, eyes down, away from his brother’s, afraid of what he might find there.

“Will I _calm down?”_ Dean repeated, clutching the bottle in his hand so tightly his knuckles shone white amidst the shadows. _“Calm down?”_ He asked again, his voice rising and falling, all jagged edges with no relief.

“I’m not running away, you know,” he said, and the worst was that he wasn’t angry anymore; just tired, dead to the core. “We can still talk on the phone and see each other, you know, when I have breaks and you...” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair, gaze back on the ratty carpet.

“When I _what,_ exactly?” Dean spat out. “When I’m not busy?” Something hard flitted in his eyes and he paused a moment. “Well, let me clue you in on something Sammy; while you’re off burying your nose in books and abandoning your family, you know what me and Dad’ll be doing? _Saving lives.”_

He didn’t know if Sam replied, didn’t care to stick around to find out. The bottle dropped with a thud, the last of the beer trickling out, and he was gone, the door swinging lightly on its hinges after him.

(Sam hadn’t replied, but a strangled, choking noise escaped his throat as Dean disappeared from view. He never told him, but the look in Dean’s eyes in that moment was all he could see when he closed his eyes.)

*

He wrote a letter. He wasn’t sure what else he could do, if he were telling the truth, and things always looked better set down in writing. Or was that just him?

The shadows darkened and deepened around him, settling into the cracks of the peeling wallpaper, but the page remained blank save the generic hotel stamp at the top. A bitter sigh ripped through him, and he reached down to crumple the paper up, missing the trash can by almost a foot.

It was the only thing he left behind.

(Would he surprised to learn that Dean had carefully unfolded it after he left, and kept it creased in the pages of an old Batman comic? No, probably not.)

*

He left in the darkness, of course he did; the Winchesters only did important things under the cover of darkness, John would drunkenly slur out from time to time, the words hanging between them until the sun crashed through them the next morning.

“If you’re going, you better stay gone,” John had warned him, voice raw from all the shouting, all the _fighting._

Sam hadn’t answered, hadn’t had it in him, and had only nodded, shouldering his bag and walking out.

And Dean, Dean hadn’t said a word, just stood there in the doorway, watching his little brother get smaller and smaller and smaller until he couldn’t pick him out from the shadows at all.


End file.
